


admit it

by ladydemelza



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Ben loves Rey fight me on this, F/M, Supreme Dumbass, TLJ Spoilers, one-sided Poe/Rey, self-depreciating Ben Solo is an addictive drug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 22:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydemelza/pseuds/ladydemelza
Summary: The First Order captures Poe Dameron, and Kylo can't resist trying to get some pertinent information from him.Kylo’s expression was utterly unreadable. “Answer my questions or you will never leave this room alive.”“Too bad,” Poe said. “I like it here.”Faster than Poe could see, Kylo moved, and a crackling surge of bright red plasma erupted right in front of Poe’s throat.“De-escalation is really not your thing,” Poe said, blistering heat radiating from the blade.





	admit it

**Author's Note:**

> first foray into the reylo community - be gentle. huge hugs and thanks to the compactor to my trash, jadeddiva. go read her reylo fic, you will not be disappointed! say hi on tumblr @lady-demelza.

Poe stirred, feeling an insistent pulsing against the back of his left eye.  When was he hit in the head, he wondered? He remembered the butt of a Stormtrooper’s blaster, Kylo Ren’s voice, the cracking of his lightsaber. Poe remembered Kylo’s sharp order to take him alive coming before the darkness of unconsciousness. He tried to move his arms and, sure enough, metal bars restrained him over his forearms, wrists and ankles. The air was cold and relatively still. He felt weak suddenly, exhausted, like he was teetering on the edge of consciousness and he might slip under again. He clenched his freezing fingers into fists, digging his nails into his palms, fighting as hard as he could to keep his eyes open—

“Stay awake,” said Kylo Ren, seated in the corner of the room. He was without his helmet, harsh, dark eyes staring at Poe. “I don’t have time to wait for you any more than I already have.”

Poe blinked several times, still groggy. He noticed guards posted at either side of the door, stark white armor gleaming in the fluorescent, sterile light. He wished the room looked unfamiliar to him, but he had unfortunately been in a room just like this one before.

The dark hilt of Kylo’s lightsaber caught his attention, fastened securely to Kylo’s belt. There were weapons in the hands of the Stormtroopers, but even if he could somehow manage to get his hands on one, he had _seen_ Kylo Ren stop blaster fire before. It wouldn’t make any difference. He could only buy time and hope that Rey, Finn, and Rose could find a way to free him.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Poe said finally, making unabashed eye contact.

Kylo didn’t react. Poe didn’t expect him to.

There were circles so dark they looked like bruises under Kylo’s eyes—almost as though Kylo hadn’t been sleeping well. _Or someone popped him good,_ Poe considered, fighting a smirk. _Twice._ The scar Rey gave him still ran thin and puckered down his cheek. Poe felt a blazing joy blossom in his chest at the sight of it.

* * *

She told Poe about the scar on a day she was wandering through the hangar to get a look at the mechanics’ various projects while he worked on repairing an old X-wing they had salvaged. Poe couldn’t quite get a part in place and Rey, whose hands were smaller and, much as he hated to admit, defter, offered to help.

“I’ve seen Kylo Ren before,” Poe had told her. She was the only person besides Finn he could talk to about the experience, the only person who would _know_.

She bristled at first at the mention of his name, eyes purposefully focused on her task. “Not like I have,” she assured him.

“He…broke into my head,” Poe said, hesitating just a little. He knew how crazy it sounded.

But Rey had just nodded. She stopped working momentarily to glance back at Poe. “He does that a lot.”

Poe leaned a little closer to get a better look at Rey’s work. “You can beat him. I saw what you did on Crait—it was incredible. You’re our only hope.”

She froze then, shoulders tight with anxiety. “I fought him once, after he was in my mind,” she said quietly. Cheeks slightly flushed, she added, “I wanted to make him pay. At the time, I mean.”

“Did you?”

She smiled a little. “I left a mark he won’t soon forget, especially since he didn’t get it fixed up like he could have. For me...and for you. And Finn, too.”

Poe smirked a little. “Really? Where?”

“Just a little scar, there,” she said, using one finger demonstrate where it would be on her own face.

“How amazing… Is he terrified of you now?” Poe asked, almost delighted at the thought. He knew _he_ wouldn’t want to pick a fight with Rey.

She bit her bottom lip, turned back to her work. “I don’t think so.”

“He missed the rock thing, then.”

Laughing a little, she said, “Not so much.”

Poe moved just slightly closer to her still. “He’s strong. So are you.”

* * *

Poe thought of Rey telling him about the scar, of the friendship they developed when Rey had time to help with repairing ships and weapons as they tried to rebuild what they could of the Resistance’s fleet. Sometimes she seemed distant and bothered, caught up in her own head. Even though she brushed off the idea that it was Kylo who bothered her, Poe could tell. The mention of him always left her tense and quiet.

He knew jumping into an X-wing and blowing something up would probably never get rid of what truly tormented her, which is probably why he had volunteered for such a dangerous mission and gotten himself captured to begin with. It was all he could do, all he could try, even though she never asked, to defeat the First Order and kill Kylo Ren. It was the only way she could be free. Become what she was meant to be. Live the life she was meant to live.

“You know,” Poe said, “it really _is_ easier to understand you. Without that—I guess—apparatus?”

It was silent for several moments until Kylo stood, robe softly skimming the floor. Poe braced himself to be hit, which was usually how people responded to his insolence, but oddly, the punishment never came.

Poe focused on Kylo’s expression, searching for something— _anything_ —to indicate why he would restrain himself. What could bring someone as impatient and easily angered as Kylo to avoid an opportunity to hurt a prisoner, to pull back instead of attack?

“Leave us,” Kylo said suddenly. “Don’t return until I say so.”

_So the Supreme Asshole wants privacy. Why? Not like the guards would stop him no matter what he did to me._

The guards did as they were told, the door closing with a rush of air behind it. Poe glanced again at Kylo’s lightsaber and strained uselessly against the metal holding him down.

Kylo’s expression was utterly unreadable. “Answer my questions or you will never leave this room alive.”

“Too bad,” Poe said. “I like it here.”

Faster than Poe could see, Kylo moved, and a crackling surge of bright red plasma erupted right in front of Poe’s throat.

“De-escalation is _really_ not your thing,” Poe said, blistering heat radiating from the blade. He sounded more at ease than he felt.

Kylo held the lightsaber steady. “You will answer my questions,” he said again, humorless. The red light of the blade cast across his face, making the shadows under his eyes look even darker and his scar look slightly jagged.

It was a wholly different experience to be interrogated by Kylo Ren without his helmet, Poe realized then. When he thought back on his previous experience, he always imagined Ren looked amused, or even pleased, under the helmet. He always felt sure that if he knew anything at all about Kylo Ren, it was that he definitely enjoyed torture, enjoyed flaunting his mastery of the Force. But Kylo did not look as though he enjoyed this. His lips were pressed into a straight and unmoving line, his stare analytical and serious. He almost, Poe thought, even looked pained.

Poe said, “You have to ask your questions before I can answer them, unless you want me to, I don’t know, use the Force to read your mind. I’m a quick study, but probably not that quick.”

The lightsaber shuddered in a way that Poe felt all the way to his bones as Kylo’s eyes narrowed. He extended his free arm toward the door, where the lenses of several security cameras nestled in the ceiling suddenly exploded in showers of bright white sparks. Poe jolted as much as his restraints would allow. Then, just as quickly as Kylo had drawn the weapon, it was extinguished and fastened to his belt again.

Avoiding actually harming Poe, dismissing the guards, destroying the cameras…something wasn’t right. If this was an interrogation as Kylo seemed to indicate, then the information he wanted had to be something he didn’t want the rest of the First Order to know about. That was the only reason to destroy the cameras. Suddenly, something in Poe’s mind clicked into place. There was only one thing—or rather, one person—who would be afforded this kind of protection, this kind of deference, by Kylo Ren: the only other person in the galaxy who could hope to be his equal.

Kylo threaded his fingers together, pushing his gloves against the spaces between his fingers in a way that almost seemed nervous, or maybe something he wasn’t even aware he was doing.

“Thought you said you didn’t have time for me,” Poe said, intentionally prodding Kylo further to see if he would break.

Kylo’s expression was still stony. “I’ve seen you,” he says finally, coolly. “Desperate. Reckless. I have to dispute that you’re the best pilot in the Resistance, since you can never seem to consistently evade capture...however, you are, commendably, still alive. But being the best is not as important to you as you want people to think.”

Poe pursed his lips. “So this is a fortune-telling session.”

“No,” Kylo says slowly, knowingly. “No. Not as important to you as your friends.”

“Let me guess. I retire on a pleasure yacht and die of old age?”

He heard the squeaking strain of leather as Kylo visibly clenched his fist. If _that_ wasn’t enough to make Kylo angry enough to attack him, what would be? Kylo didn’t reach for the lightsaber again either like he had when the cameras were still functional.

“I’ve seen you with her,” said Kylo, voice quiet, almost distant.

 _Bingo._ He wanted intel on Rey, and for some reason that was unknown to Poe, didn’t want the First Order to know anything he could get Poe to tell him.

“Your mother?” Poe said, one corner of his lips twisting upward. He couldn’t resist.

Kylo closed his eyes, frustration obvious.

Refocusing on Poe after a beat, Kylo asked, voice strained: “Where is she?”

“General Organa’s whereabouts—”

“General Organa,” Kylo repeated with a wistful scoff of a laugh. “I can find General Organa any time and you know that.”

Poe fought to detect any scrap of affection in Kylo’s voice for his mother. The only emotion he could see, if any, flickered behind Kylo’s dark eyes, a ghost of an unidentifiable feeling that Poe couldn’t be completely sure was there.

Kylo threaded his fingers together again, pressing the seams of his gloves into his skin. “You will tell me where she is.”

Poe considered this, trying to decide his next move. “Didn’t want the First Order to know you’re trying to stalk a Jedi across the galaxy, I take it,” he said, doing his best to nod toward the shattered remnants of the cameras despite his restraints. “Smart.”

Kylo moved and Poe braced himself for mental assault, but Kylo was just crossing his arms, still visibly frustrated.

He wanted to know where Rey was. He didn’t want the First Order to know. These pieces of the puzzle made sense to Poe and his mind could see where they might overlap. Kylo and Rey had history and there was probably a selfish score Kylo wanted to settle that Poe didn’t know about. But his hesitancy to actually injure Poe in any way did not seem to fit.

“Did she make a new lightsaber yet?” Kylo asked, raising his voice slightly. “Remember what I said. Answer my questions.”

Here was an opportunity, Poe realized, to probe for the missing connection. “You could just make me,” he pointed out. “Why don’t you?”

Kylo looked like he desperately wanted to break something. His jaw clenched, making a tight, angular line. Instead, he gripped his own biceps while his arms were crossed with what looked to Poe like uncomfortable strength.

“Does it seem like you’re in a position to be asking _me_ questions?” Kylo asked through gritted teeth.

“The way I see it,” Poe said, eyes meeting Kylo’s, “you don’t really deserve to know.”

The pain was immediate, even though Kylo’s expression didn’t change. His eyes stayed as cool and dark as ever as he probed through Poe’s mind with a gloved hand extended. Poe heaved against the presence, pushed every ounce of strength he could muster toward it, but he could feel his defenses shatter easier than glass.

* * *

“I worry about Finn getting hurt,” Poe had said, taking a drink of the whiskey he had managed to procure from a trader he crossed paths with while buying ship parts. It wasn’t anything fancy, he knew, just from the smell, but it didn’t have to be. “Your turn.”

“I’ve never drank before,” Rey confessed, taking the bottle with trepidation.

They sat in the hangar late one night, neither able to sleep, both hoping some work might settle their nerves. Poe suggested something a little stronger.

“Go on,” Poe encouraged. “You say what you’re afraid of, and then you take a drink. It’ll help, I promise.”

She shrugged her shoulders a little. “I’m afraid of Finn getting hurt, too.” Grimacing, she swallowed a mouthful of the alcohol and passed it back to Poe.

Poe swirled the liquid around in the flask. “I don’t know what we’ll do if we ever lose Leia.” He drank.

Rey gripped the flask again. “What if I can never figure out how to fix the lightsaber?” She took another swallow.

They traded the flask back and forth for what felt like a long time. Her head swam, feeling slightly disconnected from her body. It almost felt like the disconcerting tug of the Force connecting her mind to Kylo’s, but she couldn’t tell Poe, or _anybody_ , about that.

“I worry,” she began, the words feeling thick in her mouth, “that we will lose because I am nothing.”

Poe watched her take a drink, eyebrows furrowed. “I know the point of the game is to just get things off your chest, but this one’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not,” she said loudly, losing the sense of the volume of her voice due to drink. “It’s not. That’s what he said.”

“Who said?”

“Kylo Ren. He said I’m from nowhere, and that I’m nothing.”

Poe gently pried the flask from her grip. “Let’s stop,” he said. “C’mon. Let’s get you back to your bunk.”

* * *

“Should I keep going?” asked Kylo.

Poe was sure every neuron in his brain was aflame with agony. “Fine!” he shouted. “Fine!”

So much for his theory that Kylo wouldn’t hurt him.

The onslaught halted as Kylo slowly lowered his hand.

“Talk.” It wasn’t a request.

“You said she was nothing,” Poe said. “She told me. Nobody and nothing.”

Finally, he saw something break behind Kylo’s eyes.

“That’s right,” Poe continued, blood rushing in his ears as he realized he had the advantage now. “You called the rarest person in the galaxy ‘nothing’. And you know what’s crazy about that? Someone who is that compassionate, that brave, that selfless…could never be nothing.” He almost spat the last few words.

He was under Kylo’s skin now more than ever before and relished the feeling. It was what Kylo deserved. Kylo turned away for the first time, rubbing his forehead roughly.

“Nothing to say about that?” Poe challenged. “I’m glad she gave you that scar. Every time you see your own reflection, you’ll have to remember how strong she is and what she can do.” He was way past the point that he should have stopped, but didn’t care—couldn’t care. He deserved every single bit of hurt Poe could level at him.

* * *

The pilot was _pissing him off_. Rage thrummed in his veins, giving him strength and carrying the Force violently through him. He wanted to torture Poe Dameron, to harm him—at the very least, to punch him—but couldn’t bring himself to do any more damage.

All he could see was the pilot as Rey saw him: brash and impulsive, yes, but a friend who believed in her, a friend who listened to her, a friend who cared.

“You have no idea what you are talking about,” Kylo snapped. He automatically calculated how quickly he could get Dameron out of the restraints and have themselves a proper fight, but – no, that wasn’t an option. This was careening off-course, just like Poe probably wanted, and he needed to get control of himself. He could feel a burning hot flush creeping up his neck. _How annoying_.

Poe was smiling now, spiteful. “I think you’re nothing, Jedi Killer. Nothing and nobody.”

Kylo’s hand flexed before he could stop himself and Poe was in agony again. The idea of control was too tempting for Kylo, he knew, and the feeling of it too addictive. It was better than the unknown, than fear, even if it was wrong. He relaxed his hand after a moment, and Poe gasped for air.

He had memorized her expression when he said it – every minute detail of it. He watched the tears in her eyes, the confusion, hurt, and loneliness all at once. He felt every feeling, the bond between them more open than it ever had been before. Remembering every detail of that day, replaying it in his mind…remembering his words, sometimes regretting them…

Remembering something he had thought of every day since then. Four words.

 _But not to me_.

Poe Dameron didn’t know about them, Kylo realized. Rey couldn’t have told him. No, he didn’t know – she kept it a secret. The part of his heart that could never fully snuff out the light burned brighter than it had since he last saw her. He felt it surging, replacing his rage.

“Nothing,” Kylo said, thoughts racing.

Why would she keep this secret? He knew she was friends with Poe, knew she confided in him. He saw their conversations sometimes through his bond with Rey. She would smile and laugh when he made jokes, let him vent his frustrations while she listened. She never doubted his loyalty or trustworthiness. She wanted to protect him desperately so that he could be happy one day and have a real life outside of the Resistance like he had never been able to have before.

He saw Poe’s intentions, and could even without the Force if he wanted to. They were screaming inside his mind, especially now. Less noble than Rey’s, but everyone in the galaxy had less noble intentions than she did. Infuriating, yes, but more mesmerizing than anything. The light in his heart pulsed at the thought.

He knew she remembered every detail of the day Snoke died, too. He had seen it in their bond through her eyes: his own face, his lips pressing together, the slight shake of his head as he tried to be honest, as he put his heart on the line. He hated seeing himself, wide-eyed and weak. She didn’t think it was weakness even though that was all he could see.

 _But not to me_.

No, after everything he had done, she still believed in her vision of his future. That much he knew was true. She still thought there was a way back home for him. When she wasn’t trying to shut him out, especially at night, he could see the dreams. Maybe she still dreamed of bringing Ben Solo home like she used to, dreamed she’d try to understand what his words meant when the rest of the barriers between them were gone.

She didn’t keep it secret—she just couldn’t admit it, he realized. She couldn’t admit to Poe that Kylo had said this to her because she didn’t understand if it was her power that meant something to him, or something else. She probably thought it would be easier if he meant her power was special to him, and she was probably right. In a way, it didn’t matter, and that felt like a knife through Kylo’s ribs, puncturing his ability to breathe normally. Looking at Poe, a real friend to Rey, made him realize there was still too much separating them for whatever Kylo’s words meant to even be relevant.

She was so purely good. He _knew_ her, knew she wasn’t without darkness, but she _was_ purely good.

He thought of what separated them, her friendship with Poe, which was so foreign to Kylo he could barely make sense of it, her desire for Poe to have a real life one day, and his chest felt like tearing. His mind ached where he could feel it connected to hers on a taut, unyielding thread across the galaxy. The thread wound itself around the light in him the same way she had unknowingly wound herself around his thoughts, whether waking or sleeping, and tugged.

With a twitch of his fingers, the restraints around Poe’s arms and legs popped open.

  



End file.
